


Brother Born of Lazarus

by CassieWolfe



Series: In the Shadows (Dark Batfam Au) [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Damian Wayne, BAMF Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is Jason Todd's Parent, Dark Batfamily (DCU), Family Feels, Fix-It, Gen, Good Older Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Overprotective Bruce Wayne, Protective Jason Todd, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28153947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieWolfe/pseuds/CassieWolfe
Summary: Side story to Things That Lurk in the Shadows. Jason is a good brother, and Talia al Ghul is up to no good
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd
Series: In the Shadows (Dark Batfam Au) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911553
Comments: 54
Kudos: 405





	1. In Which Jason is a Good Brother

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first half of a two-parter, and it happens about a year before In The Shadows. I thought about posting it to that story, but it goes well before, and the timeline in In The Shadows is already thoroughly screwed. Jason being a good brother, woo! Next chapter of this, we get Bruce coming and getting them. It may or may not involve Feelings.
> 
> Also, the "Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con" tag is referring to a single sentence where Jason muses that he knows Talia assaulted Bruce because Jay knows Bruce would never have consented to having sex with her. It's seriously like five words.

Jason stared at the newspaper clipping, and he seethed. The green mist that followed him wherever he went roiled in his vision, and all his focus went to ensuring that Talia believed that fury was directed at Batman. _Joker Walks Free After Horrifying Death of Robin_. Honestly, Jason wasn't sure if she was playing games, or if she really thought him that stupid, because the half-assed fake in front of him wasn't even good.

_Soon_ , he whispered to the green rage in the back of his head. _Soon we'll destroy her. We just have to get Damian out first_.

Damian al Ghul Wayne was possibly the only thing Talia had done right regarding Jason, and even then she'd made several enormous mistakes. The ten-year-old heir to the League of Assassins was, as of Jason's first thirty seconds awake, abruptly his first priority. As soon as he'd realized that there was a kid here, getting Dami out safe was of the greatest importance.

And when he realized that Damian was Bruce's son... well, that just made everything more interesting, didn't it? Especially considering that Jay knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Bruce had never consented to any relations he and Talia might have had. He didn't know of Dami's existence, that much was clear, and Damian himself obviously didn't know his father's identity.

When Talia first formally introduced them – Damian had been watching when Jason was brought back, but they'd both taken pains to ensure she never knew that – when, after months of training, Jay managed to meet and _exceed_ her impossible standards, she'd simply taken him to Dami's set of rooms, sparse but larger than his own quarters, and announced, “ _This is Jason. He's your new bodyguard. Jason, make sure Damian does as he's told_.”

Then she departed, leaving Jay staring at the younger kid. Some sort of old, half-forgotten instincts told him that this, _this_ was likely the only thing in this God-forsaken mountain that mattered.

“...Hi,” he said awkwardly.

The kid glared. In that moment, Jason realized that whoever said _nothing worth having comes free_ was absolutely right. It may take time, but one way or another he'd win over this tiny ball of rage and neglect. (It took time. A lot of time.)

Over the next year, Jason trained, and he slowly coaxed Damian into trusting him, and he plotted. Most of his spare time went to planning how he'd eventually get them out of the League base – because there was no way he'd be leaving a kid behind. He might not remember everything, but Jason knew that Batman would never take him back if he left a child behind. (Lies. He was far too fond of the boy he'd grown to consider a brother to ever leave him.)

So that all led him to here and now. Staring at the paper, Talia standing behind him. The talon-like nails on her fingers dug into his shoulders, and her raspy voice murmured its beguiling lies into his ears. Over the nearly two years he'd been in the League, Jason had learned to lie, but Talia was different. She was the only sparring partner who could beat him, now; Ra's never came down to the mats, and even the League's best couldn't stand up to Jay for more than a few minutes. Damian was learning fast, but speed and agility could only go so far against his heavier, stronger brother.

Mustering all his anger, Jason spat, “How dare he?” Abruptly, he realized he was trembling. “How could he let that- let the- let _my murderer_ live?”

“Obviously,” Talia purred, “He doesn't care about you.” Her voice was like spider silk, delicate and beautiful until it had trapped you, then deadly. Jay couldn't believe he'd ever fallen for it. Now, her manipulations seemed heavy-handed and clumsy.

Biting his cheek to bring tears to his eyes, Jay looked up at her. “But I thought he loved me,” he said, voice quivering.

Talia wrapped herself around him in a way that to an outside observer might have seemed comforting, but felt like the coils of a snake around its prey. “I'm so sorry Jason. It seems you were just a tool.”

Jason forced himself to relax into her embrace. “I'm going to kill him,” he spat, injecting his voice with false rage. “Will you help me?”

He felt her smile in the crook of his neck. “Of course,” she murmured into his skin. Showing no sign of the revulsion that crawled down his spine when she touched him, he smiled back, teeth showing. Talia wouldn't know what hit her, and for her crimes, he would kill her. Jay realized that retroactive killing of everyone who ever hurt Damian was a little – ha – _overkill_ , but frankly, the green fog coating his mind made it a little hard to hold onto rationality.

After that star performance, it was easy to convince her into allowing him a computer – not one with internet, of course, but it was child's play to hook it up once he had the hardware. Well aware of the cameras and microphones scattering even Damian's rooms, he told his charge nothing, trusting him to go along when Jason made his move. Taking the chance that Bruce would be scanning the internet for suspicious activity, he carefully encrypted a simple message – just the coordinates of the base they were in, and the Batfamily's standard code for a rescue mission – and left it where an alert Bat might see it.

Then, there was only waiting. Jay had faith that Bruce would be unable to resist a confrontation with his longest-standing opponent, and _that_ would give Jay and Damian a chance to escape while the League was busy with the Bats. In the meantime, he curled up in Dami's rooms and continued making backup plans B through Z, thoroughly disguising them his Bat assassination plan for Talia's spies.

Of course, when Bruce finally came for them, everything fell apart. Of course, Jason's perfect plans were all for nothing. Of course, his ~~adorable~~ annoying replacement had done some digging in Ra's servers. (Jason wouldn't lie to himself, though – it was kind of nice to be met with a worried and overprotective Batman instead of having to escape alone.)


	2. In Which Bruce is Parent of the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tim finds a cryptic note in Ra's al Ghul's servers, he goes to Bruce. Naturally, the ever-curious Bat investigates. What he finds, though, will exceed his wildest dreams...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bats are reunited! Woo!
> 
> I chose a random spot in the Himalayas for Nanda Parbat. The coordinates in question do exist, but I don’t actually know if it’s the right place. Cut me some slack here. Also, as far as I can tell, it isn’t actually the canon location of the League, but I don’t know what is, so- shrug. Have I mentioned that I don’t read the comics?
> 
> Anyway, it's been a while, and I'm sorry. I was busy with life, and then there was just no inspiration. I may or may not have a third chapter left in me, but don't hold your breath. As of now, Brother Born of Lazarus is complete. And yes, it ends there. You can use your imagination as to what happens next.

Eighteen months. It had been a year and a half since Jason had died, and Bruce was falling apart. He wouldn’t lie; ever since watching his son bleed out, Bruce had been a mess. Killing the Joker had eased the rage simmering under his skin, but the space left was just filled up with grief. Dick had moved out just weeks after the funeral, and the house had felt horribly desolate with just Alfred. Maybe that was why, when a surprisingly tiny teenager turned up on his doorstep, Bruce didn’t fight it as hard as he might have.

(Or maybe it was the mop of dark hair, the blue eyes that in the right light looked nearly green. Sometimes, with Tim following him on patrol, Bruce could catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye and nearly forget that it was the wrong kid.)

Bruce had healed, he thought, as much as could be expected given what had happened so recently. Dick was speaking to him again, even spending nights at the Manor. Criminals no longer needed quite so much medical attention after a run-in with the Bat. Things were slowly returning to normal – for a given value of normal. Considering that they were a family of billionaires who moonlighted as slightly-murderous vigilantes, _normal_ was a relative term.

Still. Things were good. Sure, Ace was mopey and quiet, even more than a year later; sure, Alfred set out an extra plate at every meal and Dick refused to go into certain stores and restaurants; sure, Jason’s room remained untouched and the glass case in the Cave bore testament to all Bruce’s failures, but it was fine. It was good. Tim fit into the family like he’d always been there, filling a place in Bruce’s heart he didn’t know was empty.

The door of his study banged open. Tim, a head taller than when they first met, but just as gawky and uncoordinated, came bouncing in, tripping ungracefully over a footstool on his way. It never ceased to amaze Bruce, how such a graceful and dangerous Robin could be such a hazard to himself outside the costume.

“Bruce,” Tim exclaimed, a strange expression on his face. “I just got this. I think you should check it out!” He waved a piece of paper in Bruce’s face, incidentally keeping him from getting even a peek at the writing on it.

“Tim-” Bruce sighed.

“Right, sorry,” he said sheepishly, handing it over. Frowning, Bruce read the simple message scribbled down in Tim’s messy hand.

_32°24'31.2"N 77°47'24.6"E_

_Rescue._

“It was in our standard family code,” Tim offered. “I found it on Ra’s servers, hidden in a supply requisition. I, um, just thought you should know.” Suddenly shy, the teen twisted his hands together, ducking his head.

“You did the right thing,” Bruce said distractedly, knowing what his son wanted. Words didn’t come easy for the Bat, but Tim needed them. Needed the reassurance that he was doing the right thing. (As always, anger rose in Bruce’s chest at the thought of how his youngest had had to grow up. He pushed it down again.)

“Call Dick,” he instructed. “This is serious.”

Two hours later, the entire family was gathered in the Batcave. Dick and Tim sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch and Alfred stood behind them, ever-present tray held steady. Before them, Bruce sat in an office chair, pilfered from the computer desk. Manfully resisting the urge to spin, he gave his audience a meaningful look. (What, exactly, he meant, was up for debate.)

“Today,” he said heavily, “Tim got this.”

He waved the paper around, then explained what, exactly, was on it.

“It might seem unimportant, but this was in Bat code. Either Ra’s has figured out the cipher, or someone who already knew it is in League headquarters. Regardless, Robin and I will be taking the Batplane and visiting the League.” Tim jumped slightly in surprise. “Nightwing, will you be joining us?”

Nodding grimly, Dick spoke up, “Absolutely. If J- if someone needs help, I’ll go.”

(Jason, he meant. If Jason needed help. The spike of pain Bruce felt at the reminder was not entirely unexpected. It still hurt.)

Bruce acknowledged Dick a single sharp jerk of his head, before striding over to the case holding the Batman suit. Behind him, his two boys scurried to follow him. Alfred, the angel, was already checking that the Batplane was ready to depart. As the familiar heaviness of the costume settled on his shoulders, Bruce felt emotion and weakness melt away. Reassured, as always, by the weight of the cape on his shoulders, the mask covering his face, the Batman stood tall and motioned his companions ahead.

The plane ride was tense. That was all that could be said for it. Inhabitants of the plane paced or brooded, as suited their personalities. When they touched down outside Nanda Parbat, the three Bats were all cranky and tense. Bruce had planned to delicately infiltrate the stronghold, entering so carefully the League never knew he was there. He’d planned to slip in and out, to learn everything there was to know before acting, to live up to his training in subterfuge.

In the end, that plan was doomed from the very start. It wasn’t that he – or his two sidekicks – couldn’t be subtle. No, they all had plenty of experience and training in the arts of deception. But… well. They’d just finished with a ten-hour flight filled with awkward silences and tense worry. Before they even hit the first bend in the corridor, Bruce had realized that none of them were in the frame of mind for delicacy.

“Change of plans,” he murmured. “Incapacitate them. Use lethal force only if they do first.”

Glancing back, he noted the slow smile spreading over Nightwing’s face, the sparkle in Robin’s eyes. In an incredible feat of timing, five assassins promptly came around the corner. Nightwing’s escrima sticks took care of one, and Tim brought a second down with a textbook kick to the knee. Of the remaining three, one stayed to fight the boys; the other two, in a show of suicidal bravery, charged Batman.

They were good, of course. In the League, you couldn’t afford to be anything else. Bruce, though, found himself at ease. Was the skill gap that big, he wondered, that he could relax and play with his opponents? (Behind him, he noticed, the two younger Bats brought down their enemy, Tim choking him out with his staff.)

Tiring of the game, Bruce threw three batarangs in quick succession. Their target dodged one, but failed to notice the others. He went down, the razor-sharp knives lodged in his knee and shoulder. Dick took the opportunity to electrocute him.

The only remaining assassin was dispatched quickly, and the three vigilantes went on their way. Only half an hour and thirty-seven attempted assassinations later, they found themselves bursting into the room one of their more cooperative new acquaintances had directed them to. As Bruce kicked in the door, he wondered what he’d find. Nothing, however, compared to what he found.

“Jason?”

A heartbreaking smile broke across his no-longer-dead son’s face.


	3. In Which Damian Needs Many Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian's day is currently being Not Good. A fact not improved by the trio of vigilantes come to take ~~his brother~~ ~~his friend~~ ~~his sparring partner~~ Jason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter starts the morning before the Bats come rescue them. Damian is a brat, and very determined to be a melodramatic victim. His family is equally determined to make sure he knows he’s loved and cuddled. These goals don’t really mesh well.
> 
> I know I said no more after the last chapter, but… well. I started reading Batman again, and my brain just went, “you know what would be great?” and I said “to get all our homework in on time?” and my brain said, “no, to write another chapter of Batman fluff.” So I did.

Damian was _not_ having a good day. Emphatically. Mother was pushing him unreasonably hard, and he _knew_ Jason was keeping secrets from him. He was all alone.

A muscled arm snaked around his waist, pulled him against a hard chest.

Completely and totally alone. Nobody cared about him. They all hated him. Eyes watched him when he sparred, looking for any chance to attack, to take his place. Damian couldn’t trust anyone.

“Baby bat?” Jason’s voice was soft and heavy, the hated nickname sounding sticky and tired on his tongue.

“Shut up,” Damian snapped, unwilling to admit, even to himself, how petulant it sounded.

Where was he? Oh, yes. He couldn’t trust anyone. They’d all turn on him in a second. None of them were loyal.

_Except Jason._

No. Todd was just like all the others, he’d kill Damian if he thought he’d get something out of it. Damian could never let his guard down.

_You already did_ , a little voice whispered. _You sleep in his arms, you eat what he gives you- you’re getting soft._

Shut up, he told it. Of course he wasn’t soft. He was Damian al Ghul, heir of the Demon Head. He was hard and dangerous, and he would-

Oh. Jason was petting his hair. Okay, he could work with this. He could be dangerous soon. In just… five… minutes…

When Damian woke up, the sun was setting outside the single, tiny window in their rooms. Jason was still patiently lying underneath him, and on second glance seemed to be asleep himself. Well. Maybe if Jason, Talia’s champion, was napping too… maybe he could be forgiven a moment of weakness.

Carefully, Damian levered himself up. As experience had taught, Jason would cling if given half a chance. Escaping him must be done with caution and slow movements, or he would latch onto any bedmate with all the tenacity of a koala.

Damian padded silently across to the door. Something had woken him, and it wasn’t Jason’s snoring. Some instinct had told him something was wrong, and he wouldn’t rest until he got to the bottom of it. His hand had barely touched the knob, however, when a high-pitched wail reverberated through the walls, stabbing painfully into his skull.

Jason came awake with a start, clutching at his head. “Dami!” he yelped, eyes wild and acid green, several shades brighter than his usual. Oh, bother. Gratifying as it was to know he was Jason’s first thought, a fit of Pit rage wouldn’t help anyone.

“Todd,” Damian said sulkily. “I’m fine. There’s an intruder alert, that’s all.”

Slowly, Jason’s irises receded to their usual emerald, becoming more lucid by the moment. “Oh,” he said slowly, groggily. “Okay. Good.”

“Tt.” Damian turned back to the door, about to open it, when a hand closed on his wrist. Resistance was futile; Jason pulled him easily down. Into his ear, Jason breathed too quietly for the microphones to pick up, “I think I know what’s going on. We just wait here, it’ll be fine.”

Tutting again, Damian relaxed fully. Obviously Jason wasn’t letting him go anytime soon. Then fingers found his ribs, and he grabbed for one of their pillows, dignity forgotten. War had been declared, and Damian would not lose.

Half an hour, one lost tickle fight and several shredded pillows later, the door swung open. Damian immediately leapt to his feet, swords leaping to his hands. Behind him, Jason lazed on the bed, but Damian wasn’t fooled; the lines of his body were taut, and after a year together, he could sense the older boy’s tension like his own.

The face on the other side of the door was one Damian recognized, not from any past meeting but from Jason’s stories and Mother’s warnings. A chiselled jaw and bulky physique under black Kevlar, a mask covering the upper half of his face and extending in spiky horns above his head, a long cape ending in reverse scallops. The Batman. Damian’s father.

The white lenses of his mask widened as he took in the room. When he spoke, it was without the fabled growl. He sounded like a wreck. “Jason?”

Behind Damian, his brother smiled slowly, hesitantly. “Hi, dad,” he said.

With that, Batman was across the room and hugging Jason. Following him was a slim boy in black and blue, dark hair messy above a domino mask. Nightwing. The third to enter the room was unfamiliar, though the uniform was recognizable from the tales Jason told before bed. Clad in red, yellow and green, this was clearly Robin.

Father had replaced Jason? After what happened? Damian was admittedly a little horrified, even if the larger part of him was occupied with envy for the two vigilantes currently draped all over Jason. _His_ Jason. He didn’t realize he was growling until Jason wriggled out of the cuddle pile to grab him.

“Hey, baby bat, don’t need to growl.” Jason was laughing at him. Hmph. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“I guess.” Damian knew it sounded bratty. He didn’t care. For a year now, it had been him and Jason against the world. Now there was a family for Jason, but not for him. Suddenly, tears welled in his eyes. He was tired and sore and stressed and Jason was going to _leave_ him. Jason was going to run off with his perfect family and leave him here in the League and he’d _really_ be alone now and-

With an effort, Damian reigned in his sobs. He was fine. He’d be fine. He was fine before Jason got here, and he’d be fine after he left. Fine, fine, fine-

His internal mantra was cut off when an unfamiliar hand came to rest on his shoulder. It wasn’t Jason. Jason’s hands were gentler and he didn’t wear heavy black gloves. Damian’s eyes followed the sinewy arm up to broad shoulders, before daring to glance at his Father’s face. The Batman looked not angry at his outburst, but… concerned? Was that the word? It wasn’t an expression he was used to, not on anyone but his brother.

“Are you alright?” Batman asked, slightly awkwardly.

“Yes?” Damian hazarded, guessing at the answer the man wanted. Judging by his face, this wasn’t the right one.

The Dark Knight sighed, an unsettlingly human sound. “Much as I’d like to have this conversation here, we need to get back to the plane. The League will be after us.”

This was it, then. They were leaving. Hopefully Mother wouldn’t punish him too badly for letting them escape. (Who was he kidding? Damian steeled himself for the pain that would follow when she found out how weak he was.)

He was surprised, then, when Jason stood, still holding him. The four Bats set off, not giving him a chance to protest. Why was Jason carrying him? Why prolong this?

As if reading his mind, Jason said softly in his ear, “As if I’d leave you here.”

Oh. Maybe… Damian hardly dared to think it, but maybe they weren’t going to leave him. He knew better than to hope, of course, but for just a second he let himself dream, and his lips turned up in a smile.

His family. Wouldn’t that be nice.


End file.
